Fragrant Offering
by Lucinda
Summary: Ororo feels alone while everyone is talking about social things and dates.  Someone leaves her a gift to cheer her up.
1. Fragrant Offering

author: Lucinda  
rating: pg  
Main Characters: Movie-verse Ororo, Logan  
disclaimer: not mine. Nobody from Marvel is mine.  
distribution: please ask first.  
  
  
The students seemed particularly noisy lately, constantly chattering about some movie with Brad Pitt and another with DiCaprio. There was also intense discussion of football, and the fact that it was nearly time for Homecoming dances. Add in the sounds of teachers shouting and occasionally pleading for the students to pay attention in their classes... The overall effect was easily capable of inducing short tempers and headaches.  
  
All of that, plus the fact that she had claustrophobia to begin with had caused her to flee the school building. She had retreated to a more remote section of the woods, hoping that the solitude would soothe her frazzled nerves. The air carried numerous natural scents, the slight dampness of almost dried puddles, the new grass, the scents of small wildflowers. Instead of the chattering and complaints of students, there was only the rustling of leaves and soft twitterings of birds. She could relax and enjoy the lush flowering of nature.  
  
Smiling as the golden sunlight poured down like pale honey, Ororo knelt by a small flower, with delicate blue blossoms shaped like stars. She inhaled the light sweet scent and smiled, feeling the knots in her back slip away. She brushed her fingers over the tiny petals, looking over the soft blue color with a hint of longing.  
  
"I have found few flowers whose scent is as enjoyable. Such a pity that I have none like this in my green house." She looked thoughtfully at the small cluster of flowers, thinking out loud. "I could probably duplicate the soil and lighting conditions... but I have nothing to transplant them in. They would wither and perish before I could have them transferred."  
  
She rested beside the flowers, basking in the sunlight and enjoying the flowers subtle perfume. She was entirely unaware that she was being observed.  
  
Logan had also fled from the resounding chatter and bustle at the mansion. He had been grouchy for hours before he had finally concluded that if he was far enough that they couldn't find him, they wouldn't try to drag him in and put up streamers and balloons for some dance the students wanted. Movies, high school football, boy bands, and dances... he had been strongly tempted to cause some bodily harm. Instead, he had gone into the forrest, pretending that he had left civilization behind with the school. His interest had been caught by a familiar scent, so he had investigated, wondering what 'Ro would be doing out here.  
  
Turned out she was admiring a little flower.  
  
He recognized the scent, a little pretty blue flower that had low laying feathery leaves. It looked very fragile, but it was more resilient that you would think. He also knew that some of the local rabbits found the leaves quite tasty and appetizing. He'd tried it once, and learned that it tasted somewhere between grass and oregano. Not terrible, but hardly his first choice of a snack.  
  
He watched, seeing her inhale the scent, her eyelids lowering as she breathed it in. In that moment, he truly understood how she could have been taken for a goddess. Her hair flowed over her shoulders like a cloud, and her eyes matched the sky. She moved as softly as the deer, and as gracefully. It was as if the earth had brought forth a daughter, a new Persephone, daughter of the fertile earth, friend of growing things. In this moment, it was hard to remember that her powers were tied to the sky instead of the ground.  
  
She was the most gloriously feminine person at the mansion. She had a wonderful set of curves, and her hair flowed like a waterfall, shining and rippling as she moved. She dressed to her own liking, instead of to hide herself, or to impress someone else. As a result, she felt comfortable, both about her body and her clothing, and that comfort showed in everything that she did. That comfort made her even more alluring in a loose white summer dress than Jean in her fitted red number with the crossed cords lacing the back. She didn't drench herself in perfumes either, instead there was just the scent of her body wash, something that reminded him of fresh rain.  
  
He watched her for a while, stretched in the sunlight like a cat. She was clearly trying to relax from the noise of the students as well. Just as clearly, she thought that she was relaxing alone. Sneaking another admiring glance, Logan decided to leave her to her patch of sunshine. There were other things he could do than watch Ororo rest.  
  
Eventually, Logan returned to the school. On the way, he passed Bobby and Marie, sitting very close to each other and watching the sunset. Most of the younger students had either gone to bed, or at least to quieter areas. Scott and Jean were curled up on the couch, watching some television show. He could see a couple of the other students, another couple, some skinny blonde boy and the girl, Kitty? the one that could walk through walls. They looked like a couple, or at least, interested in each other.  
  
He scowled, seeing the signs of romantic sentiment and sappy couples everywhere. It was almost enough to make him sick. So many people, and so many of them paired up together... It only emphasized how alone he felt.  
  
Shaking his head, he continued onwards, and heard noise from one of the classrooms. It was the one with all the windows and plants, where 'Ro taught history. Pausing at the doorway, he sniffed, checking to make certain it wasn't some intruder, although why anyone would want to steal a weeks worth of history tests...  
  
It was Ororo, and she was all upset. She smelled like sorrow and a bit of anger, and frustration. For a moment, Logan was puzzled, but then he remembered that Ororo wasn't half of a couple. All the sappy couples had to be getting to her, making her sad and confused. She smelled like she'd been crying earlier as well.  
  
That just wasn't right.  
  
She was a beautiful woman, there was no reason why she should be alone. If she wanted, she should be able to get almost anyone... well, maybe a lot of men would be intimidated by her confidence, her dignity, and her sheer presence. So, she would be left with only the bravest, most courageous of men kneeling at her feet, that she could choose from like a queen... or a goddess.  
  
A plan began to form in the back of his mind. She was sad, and angry because of all the couples, because she didn't have her own special man in her life. Maybe he could help her be less upset? All it would take would be a pot from her greenhouse and a few hours of time...  
  
She discovered his offering in the morning, sitting in her greenhouse beside the pruning shears that she used. A clay planter, about a foot across, filled with almost a dozen little clusters of the delicate light blue flowers. They had been carefully put into the pot, transferred gently enough that the roots were intact, and the leaves were not crushed or bruised. Most puzzling to her was the note, a jagged script that she didn't recognize, and entirely without signature.  
  
'A Fragrant Offering of Flowers for a Goddess come to Earth'  
Reading the card, all she could do was smile, especially when she noticed a bit of dirt smudged over the corner, almost... yes, it was a blurred thumbprint of her admirer, the one who had so carefully gathered these lovely flowers for her.  
  
end Fragrant Offering. 


	2. But Who Was It?

Fragrant Offering 2: But Who Was It From?  
  
author: Lucinda  
rating: pg  
Main Characters: Movie-verse Ororo, Logan  
disclaimer: not mine. Nobody from Marvel is mine.  
distribution: please ask first.  
  
  
  
Someone had given her flowers, and the sweetest note that she'd ever seen. The gift had made her smile, and had cheered her immensely. One thing puzzled her, who could it have been? The card had not been signed, leaving only the handwritten message and a dirty thumb print along the edge as a sign that it had been from a real man instead of a wistful figment of dreams. But she didn't recognize the handwriting.  
  
The mystery of it had captured her interest. She wanted to know who it had been, who her admirer was, so that she could thank him, and possibly... Could there be the chance for romance in her future? Could there be someone who had noticed that she was a grown woman, that she might have desires and passions and emotions as did any other woman? Someone who might be willing to open their heart to her, to allow her to be Ororo the woman instead of the teacher or teammate or goddess or mentor?  
  
She could feel the threads of hope growing inside her heart, like the first fragile leaves of a new plant. She had an admirer, someone who thought that she was attractive, desirable. Someone who's gift had come at the perfect time to make her feel better. It was a delightful feeling, and she loved it.  
  
Who could it have been? She began to consider all of the men at the school, trying to puzzle out the identity. She could rule out many of the students based on the size of the thumbprint, it had to be either one of the men or perhaps some of the oldest male students might have large enough thumbs... but she didn't think that the phrase had been selected by a student, regardless of their thumbs.  
  
It couldn't have been Scott, not only was he dedicated to Jean, the handwriting wasn't anything like his. It wasn't anything like the Professor's, who would have been aware of her mood through his telepathic abilities; not only could he not have gathered the plants, his writing was almost like a typewriter's printing.  
  
There was Warren, the recently arrived sometime playboy with the wings and golden looks of an angel. He seemed confident and polished enough to have thought of something as sweet as leaving flowers for someone to find. But, would he have chosen wild flowers? He seemed so much the polished creature of the city, she couldn't picture him gathering wild flowers in the forrest.  
  
Perhaps it had been Dr. McCoy, the biochemist that had recently come to Xavier's? She could see him getting his hands dirty to accomplish something, but... as much time as he spent in the labs, would he have left them to hunt down some delicate flowers?  
  
There was Logan. She could easily see him in the woods, although not necessarily to gather flowers. He would even know that she would find them in the greenhouse. But, the phrase had seemed so poetic, an almost reverential compliment that didn't match the general opinion of Logan. Logan didn't seem like the type to write poetry, or offer flowery compliments. But... how much did they really know about Logan?  
  
Ororo sighed in frustration, coming to the conclusion that she would not be able to logic out the person that had sent her the flowers. There were too many possibilities, and she had too little information about them. She didn't know enough about some of them to know if they might have been her admirer. Trying to puzzle out little bits of information to paint who and when and why someone had delivered her flowers was only giving her a headache. Clearly, she needed a new tactic.  
  
There had to be something that she could do to try to learn who it had been. Some way to find a clue, to discover who had found them for her. If not from what she had already learned... Staring at the flowers, she noticed that one sprig had bloomed on a rather long stalk. If she plucked that stalk, and removed a few of the leaves, she could wear it in her hair. Perhaps her admirer would show some reaction, some hint that he had given them to her?  
  
Later, Ororo made her way to her history class, wearing along crinkled skirt in various shades of blue, carefully chosen to compliment the color of the spray of delicate blue flowers that she had tucked behind her ear. Hopefully, whoever had given them to her would say something to reveal his part in their arrival. If not, she still felt far more cheerful than she had yesterday, so things were better.  
  
She'd had a few people comment on the flowers, calling them pretty, and a few people hadn't even realized that the flowers had been real, thinking them no more than an ornate creation. That did make it simple enough to rule out a few people, the gentlemen that didn't know they were real flowers obviously couldn't have been the one to give them to her. The compliments did improve her mood, and the day seemed to be going quite nicely, although she was starting to wonder if her admirer was someone that had simply bypassed the entire security system to deliver flowers from far away.  
  
"The leaves work well in a salad too. Sort of like mild Oregano." Logan was leaning in the doorway, looking at her with one of his expressions, the one that at a casual glance looked a bit frustrated, a bit unsettled, and it was only with a closer look that she discovered the faint smile, traces of amusement or pleasure in his face, in the twinkle of his pale eyes.  
  
"The leaves... Logan, may I see your thumbs?" A suspicion had bloomed in her mind, like the sudden unfurling of a flower. How did he know what the leaves looked like?  
  
With a small shrug, he held out his hands, inviting her to come closer, to enter his personal space if she wanted to look. "They're pretty normal thumbs, but if you really want..."  
  
She lifted his hand with her own, examing his hand and particularly his thumbs with careful attention to detail. There were dozens of tiny scars over the backs of his fingers, straight lines as if... as if his metal claws had opened the skin on the backs of his fingers. There were calluses and ridges on his hands, hands that had known hard work. There was also a slight hint of dirt under the corner of his thumbnail, the same dark reddish soil that had been around the pot of blue flowers.  
  
"Logan?" Her voice was full of questions that she couldn't even put words to, wondering how much of this man they had missed simply by not looking beneath the surface. He was more than simply a fighter, more than a slightly hostile man without a past. He was... Logan, and complex and baffling.  
  
"Don't Goddesses always get fragrant offerings? The Professor's looking for you. Maybe you should see what he wants." There was a smile to his eyes as he spoke.  
  
She nodded, and released his hand, which returned to his side very slowly. Walking down the hall, she paused, looking at him for a moment before speaking. "Logan? Thank you... for the flowers."  
end But Who Was It? 


	3. Mystery

author: Lucinda  
  
rating: pg  
  
Main Characters: Movie-verse Ororo, Logan  
  
Third in 'Fragrant Offerings'  
  
disclaimer: not mine. Nobody from Marvel is mine.  
  
distribution: please ask first.  
  
  
  
Ororo retreated to the greenhouse, fussing over her newly transplanted flowers. The flowers that Logan had given her. Of all the people that she had considered, Logan had barely made the list. But really, that was only because... because... well, none of them really knew very much about him. He was a skilled fighter, protective of those he considered his, and annoyed Scott with ease. But other than that... Little more than the fact that somebody had implanted metal into his body, and he had a healing factor. That was really not much about a person, more like a snapshot than a biography.  
  
Logan had been with them for months, how had nobody managed to learn anything about him? Had nobody made the slightest effort to learn who Logan was? What sort of man lurked beneath the wild hair and wary disposition? Had nobody been willing to offer him even simple friendship? Well, Marie had, to an extent. At first, the girl had a crush on Logan, but his several months of absence had permitted that to fade, mutating into something more like a family feeling. Logan was something of an uncle, or perhaps a father figure for Marie now, which was causing Bobby some concern. But, other than Marie...  
  
She would have to fix that situation. If nobody else had tried to learn about Logan, then she would. The man was a puzzle, wrapped up in tension and emotions. But then, hadn't the Professor mentioned something about missing memories? If he didn't know his past, didn't remember who or why he'd gotten the adamantium in his bones, wouldn't that make him uneasy? Wouldn't it make anyone uneasy to just... wake up, with no past, no family, and the utter certainty that you were not the same as everyone else? No wonder he was wary about opening up. Which simply meant that it would take longer. Hopefully, those flowers meant that he wouldn't mind spending time with her...  
  
All she needed was a plan. Shaking her head, she left the greenhouse, walking along a path at the edge of the woods. The mansion was still in sight, at least most of the time, but it was far enough that it seemed peaceful, almost tranquil. As she turned along the path, there was a small open area, but it wasn't exactly empty. Logan was there, shirtless, with a pair of swords. Japanese blades, the steel swishing through the air as he moved through a pattern. He looked magnificent.  
  
When had Logan learned to move like that? His muscles rippled, a faint sheen of sweat almost making him gleam. He wasn't faltering, or trying to show off... With anyone but Logan, she would say that he would have no idea that she was even here. But his apparent skill... it was like watching someone from a martial arts movie. Ororo just stood there, watching with a smile on her face. Maybe her appreciation wasn't just for the smoothness of his motion, or the pattern of light flashing from the sword... perhaps he did look quite appealing. Oh, there really wasn't a 'perhaps' about it. Logan looked good, and she knew it.  
  
Eventually, his pattern came to an end, and Logan carefully slid the blades into sheaths, which had been laying in the grass. He looked at her, a small smile sliding over his face. "Afternoon, 'Ro."  
  
"Logan... where did you... that was amazing." She could feel herself blushing as the words tumbled out.  
  
He made a shrug, and there was a shadow that flickered through his eyes. "I'm not sure where or when I learned it. Just... before fifteen years ago. But thanks. I have the feeling that I had a very good teacher, somewhere in my past."  
  
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." Ororo felt like kicking herself. Hadn't she only minutes earlier been thinking how awkward it must be not remembering? "Thank you for the flowers."  
  
"You're welcome, the flowers suit you. And I saw you admiring them so much..." He shook his head, letting those words fall away. "It isn't your fault that I can't remember. And if I knew, I'd tell you that much at least. There are things that I know, phrases that sound familiar, and I have no idea when I learned them, or why I recognize it. Damn frustrating at times, but... nobody has a perfect life."  
  
She reached out, her fingertips sliding over his arm, noting the nearly imperceptible lines of scars that crossed over, some thin lines, others like holes, and still more that were jagged tears or arcs, as if from animal bites. "No, you haven't had a perfect life, or a particularly peaceful one. But Logan, you are a mystery. A delightfully baffling mystery with only a few hints as to what might be inside."  
  
"Aren't you the one who keeps reading all the mystery books at the mansion?" There was a twinkle in his eyes, something cheerful, almost playful.  
  
She smiled, her own eyes playful. "I love a good mystery."  
  
His eyes darkened, and he looked at her, as if searching for something, some answer to a question that only he knew. Slowly, his lips curved into a smile, one that seemed too powerful, to primal to use the word 'smile' to describe. There was emotion, joy, an awareness, and something that was almost a challenge. "Maybe you can help figure me out."  
  
Heat spread across her face, and it suddenly seemed harder to breathe. "I think I might like that."  
  
  
  
end Fragrant Offerings: Mystery. 


	4. Short Questions, No Answers

author: Lucinda  
rating: pg/pg13  
Main Characters: Movie-verse Ororo, Logan  
Fourth in 'Fragrant Offerings'  
disclaimer: not mine. Nobody from Marvel or X-Men is mine.  
distribution: please ask first.  
note: pretty much movie-verse, some background information from the comics where the movies didn't provide it.

Logan was a puzzle, and Ororo wasn't about to leave him unsolved forever. The question was how to figure him out? This wasn't something like a mission - go forth, find the villains, and defeat them. It wasn't like bringing someone in to the school. And it certainly wasn't anything as simple as reading the weather.  
  
But what did that leave her? He didn't enjoy going to places with large crowds of people, something that probably related to his enhanced senses. He wasn't much for talking about himself. He didn't spend large portions of his day reading in the library or in the cubbies and alcoves of the building. Honestly, he spent a lot of time outside, and had ended up working with several of the students, helping them learn how to fight.  
  
Logan wouldn't be easy to unravel. Most likely, that was a good thing. Logan wasn't a simple person, he had complexities, and layers, and tangles - that was part of what made him interesting. He had contradictions - a loner who'd saved a strange teenage girl; a rough wild man who compared her to a goddess and had left a fragrant offering. He seemed to enjoy poking at Scott's calm, or making Jean feel uncomfortable with a wide smile and a slow once over. He avoided the medical area, literally needing to be unconscious before anyone could get him there, but he would sit calmly as Hank would ramble on about chemical and biological theory. He didn't seem worried by the scientist who'd recently arrived, apparently unconcerned with sharp teeth, claws or the blue fur that covered Dr. McCoy's body. Of course, it might have simply been that Logan had learned to tune people out and ignore them while they talked.  
  
"Aren't you going to take a break? You've been watching that paper for a while now." Logan's voice came from the doorway, where he leaned against the frame. Amusement danced in his eyes, and he pointed towards the paper that had been sitting ignored on her desk as she had pondered him. "I don't think it's going to run away."  
  
"Are you sure of that?" She smiled at him, wondering if he had just felt like dropping by, or if there had been a specific reason for his arrival at her door.  
  
Chucking, he moved closer, far too graceful and predatory to describe as 'walking'. He looked at the paper, and tilted his head a bit as he studied it. "They do know there's a thing now... they call it a computer. No more messy handwriting? And the October Revolution didn't depose the Czars, that had been earlier in the year."  
  
Ororo glanced at him, watching as he reached down, moving the top essay to see the one beneath. She wondered how much he knew of Russian history, and when he'd learned. "But if they use the computers, they might not be able to finish them at midnight the night before they are due."  
  
"Putting off the paper until it's almost too late is over-rated." He chuckled, and moved a few more essays. "Hmm... Piotr's still turning in his work in Russian, or did he just think it was more fitting for the topic?"  
  
"Russian? Oh..." Glancing at the page, she sighed. Piotr had come from a Russian farm to the school, as part of an effort of cooperation and partly because the people at his home had been afraid of him. While he spoke enough English for conversations, he still had a tendency to slip into his native language for longer projects.  
  
Logan flipped the first page back, his eyes skimming over the words. "Pretty well organized, actually. Looks like he's got a good paper here."  
  
"You can read Russian?" She asked, wondering how many places Logan had gone, what languages he might have learned.  
  
Tapping the page, he gave a half laugh. "I guess so. Wonder when I picked that up?"  
  
"What was it Jean said about your age?" Ororo offered, sliding a red pen towards him while he wasn't looking at her. She smiled as he picked it up and started making a few marks along the margins of the page, going over it just as a teacher would.  
  
The pen scratched over the pages, occasionally circling something, then marking in comments in Russian, in the same jagged letters that she remembered from the flowers. "She said that I'm in perfect physical health, and that any other doctor would say I can't be more than late twenties, tops."  
  
"You don't think so." Ororo didn't need to ask. After all, if he'd looked the same for the fifteen years of his past, he couldn't still be twenty-something, could he? "When you dream... Are there images other than the nightmares?"  
  
"Sometimes." He shrugged, and started making a few end comments on the last page of Piotr's essay. "Last night there was this short guy in a big hat. He combined the worst traits of Scott, the Professor, and the annoying drill sergeant on that Basic Training reality television show. There were cannons firing in the background, and he was shouting for someone to bring him his horse. Colorful uniforms too. Of course, last week, I had this dream that seemed like a James Bond knock-off. I guess it just goes to prove that I can't rely on dreams."   
  
"Why not? What if those are real memories trying to surface?" She wondered why he seemed certain that the dreams were no more than the product of late night movies.  
  
"Right... You think there's really a file out there that says I got sent to rescue some guy named Steve Rogers from a Nazi named Johann Shmidt, better known as the Red Skull? Or that Leo Bonaparte's horse was called Lapin?" Logan shook his head with a snort. Setting Piotr's paper on the pile of other graded essays, he pulled out another one, and absently started making comments along the side of it, circling spelling errors and correcting dates. "The idea is pretty farfetched. Either one would be farfetched, but the idea that both could be memories... Napoleon was declared Emperor of France in 1804. Just how old do you really think that I am?"  
  
"I suppose that there is quite a gap between the settings." Ororo agreed, not convinced that this made it impossible for Logan to have been there. Oh, perhaps he was right, and they were only dreams. But she remembered what Jean had said - impossible to determine his true age. With his healing factor, Logan could have been alive in 1804. But there was no point in pressing the issue.  
  
For a while, things were quiet, only the sounds of red pens marking over pages. Then, she glanced at him, half wondering what anyone else would think if they could see him like this. "Logan? How old do you think I am?"  
  
"Timeless, 'Ro. Goddesses don't get old, they just are. You look like one of the elemental goddesses, one that chooses to walk here, among mortals. You don't ask a goddess how old she is, or how many candles go on a birthday cake." He gave her a sly smile, and then added, "And besides, is there a safe answer to any woman asking how old a man thinks that she is?"  
  
"I'm not a goddess." She was smiling, part of her wondering why it seemed less awkward when he used that word than when others did. But there was no mocking in his voice, and he didn't seem to be trying to force her to live a separate life from the rest of the people. And there was no fear in his eyes, no fear that she would summon the winds to blow him away, or blast him with the lightning. "It quickly becomes a frustrating way to live."  
  
"When I first woke up… one of the earliest things that I remember, I was in a forest. Eventually, I found people, but I didn't want to get too close, didn't want them to see me. The place where I woke up turned out to be part of an Indian reservation." His voice was low and rough, as if part of him was uncertain that he should be speaking. "One of the first people who saw me was an old man. He thought I was a forest spirit, or one of the old hunter gods come to look at his people."  
  
"It feels like you're being set apart. Not really human, just human shaped. Too powerful and frightening to chase away, too different to belong." The words slipped out.  
  
"Yeah." He nodded, and for a moment, he closed his eyes. "That's exactly how it feels."  
  
"Logan…" Ororo was uncertain what to say. She wanted to offer him comfort, to reassure him that he wasn't alone. To have him assure her that she wasn't alone either. But what could she say? Let's be not quite human enough together?  
  
He looked over, and his eyes were so full of tangled and tormented emotions that it would have silenced her, if she'd know the words to use. "For now, maybe it's enough that there's someone else who understands?"  
  
"And in the future?"   
  
"The future… Aren't we trying to build a better future? Isn't that the point of this school, of the team? Maybe we can shape a future that we can belong in. A future that has a place for us." He sighed, and looked at her, his eyes meeting hers. "Maybe a future where we can be part of a us. Where we're human enough, or where someone's not to frightened to try."  
  
"I like your vision of the future." Ororo wasn't certain if he'd quite meant a future with the two of them living happily after, but it sounded lovely. "A place where we do not need to fear, and a time when we can love."  
  
"You can already love, 'Ro. But sometimes, the fear and the problems try to take it away from you."  
  
End Fragrant Offering 4: Short Questions, No Answers. 


End file.
